The Hunt

Can you smell the stench of Death as its thickness engulfs with no regard the morning mist, the cool wind bristling down your neck, as its morbid and sudden ending vastly approaches,quitly without regard for gender, hovering silently above. Your mind restlessly contemplating the pletera of escape possibilities, eyes burning with desire trying to peer into the darkness, sweat beading off your brow as your heart flutters in an erythematic fashion to each second that drags by, trying to control your ramped breathing, so that you cannot be heard, or sensed. Your mind frantically racing over every detail, the situation intensifying at an unbearable rate, is your mind and body unified and readily prepared to stand unscathed in the face of adrenaline and still survive the encounter. As you prepare for the instantaneous outcome, and your eyes adjust with feverish blinking, trying desperately to see that which they have waited many moons to see but are not ready to encompass in plain view. The smell rises like a volcano, the time is at hand, and you face your foe on the battlefield of immortality, forever to leave your undaunted mark, or hide in shame. The sound of bones cracking echo through the trees, the leaves being tossed in torment, the blood splattered all about, your primal self takes the reins, your inner animal is unleashed to reek havoc about this sanctified ground, and your body erupts with a pro-evil moan, to let all those within hearing distance know that you have not succumb to the terror rather you are feasting in the victorious splatters of meat and death. So now can you smell the stench of death, it dwells inside of each of us, and soon many of us will be released unto the battle, to be a victim or a victor.